


fear no more the heat o' the sun

by dollsome



Category: Gemma Doyle Trilogy - Libba Bray
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-26
Updated: 2011-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:59:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollsome/pseuds/dollsome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The heat is excruciating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fear no more the heat o' the sun

The heat is excruciating. It isn't even summer yet, not properly, which makes it all the more offensive. Felicity would like nothing more than to strip naked and run mad about the grounds of Spence in some desperate hope of catching a breeze on her skin -- even the hint of a breeze. She smirks to herself, imagining Mrs. Nightwing's reaction. The woman would probably drop dead on the spot.

Speaking of dropping dead:

"I swear, I shall perish," Pippa says, waving her hat languidly up and down. Her fair skin is turning pink, and shines with sweat. Her curls cling to her neck, sticky from the heat. She ought to be a sorry, blotchy sight, but she isn't. She is Pippa Cross, and therefore exquisite against all odds. Like always. "We weren't made to withstand such climes! It's ghastly. If it carries on another day, I'll throw myself into the lake like Ophelia."

"Ophelia was mad and wished to die," Felicity reminds her. "You're only melodramatic. And perspiring."

"Felicity Worthington, how dare you accuse me of such a thing!" Pippa says, and hits Felicity soundly with her hat.

Felicity laughs. There is something incomparably wonderful about Pippa when she's being petty.

The fact that Felicity doesn't burst into tears at the hat attack makes Pippa wilt back into sluggishness. "Oh, ugh. If only every day weren't so _the same_ here. I yearn for a distraction. Something, anything to take my mind off this agony."

Felicity considers her: such a perfect, lovely portrait of feminine misery. And, well. Since running naked across the grounds is not an option, she settles for the next best and next most foolish thing. She leans across the small distance between them, with no thought for grass stains, and presses her mouth against Pippa's. Heat radiates from both of them. It's no reprieve from the heat, this promise of lips on lips; it is the heat, hot and greedy, so eager to consume.

It's just a small kiss. Chaste and neat.

When Felicity pulls away, Pippa's eyes are wide. Her hat has been dropped onto the grass. "What--"

"You wanted a distraction," Felicity says wickedly.

"I did," Pippa admits, her eyes wide still. Her fingers drift to her lips and stay there to marvel. Felicity watches without quite meaning to.

"You are incorrigible, you know," Pippa says at last, lofty again. It's as if something has broken, some spell or fever.

"I know," Felicity says cheerfully as she can.

They sink back into their hot, lazy silence.

"I'd never been kissed before," Pippa says then. "Like that."

"It's not as if it counted, you ninny," Felicity replies a few seconds too late. "It was only you and me."


End file.
